


Sober

by Iknowthebattle



Category: Actor RPF, Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Harry Styles - Fandom
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, M/M, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-01 22:40:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14530845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iknowthebattle/pseuds/Iknowthebattle
Summary: Tim+Harry in London.I am currently working on a long, multi-chapter Armie/Timmy fic (angst fans--get ready!) but before I dive head first into that, I had to have another go with these two. xx





	Sober

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MonikaKrasnorada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonikaKrasnorada/gifts).



Tim woke up in a semi-familiar bed at an undetermined time.

His head hurt. Too much booze, too much pot, not enough sleep. This feeling was familiar too, but not un-welcome. He was still young enough to bounce back from it after a couple of slices of toast, coffee and Ibuprofen.

Tim yawned and stretched, waking on his stomach and flipping over to see he was lying sideways in the bed. There was another body next to him lying in the same position, a familiar body by now. The body was long and half-covered in a sheet, half-covered in tattoos.

He smiled, reaching over to graze shoulder blades and neck with the tips of his fingers.

“You’re like a little bird….” Harry murmured, not opening his eyes, but facing Tim and half-smiling. His nails were chipped from playing guitar, shiny purple from two days ago.

“What does that even mean?” Tim asked voice deep with sleep.

Harry shrugged. “Always pecking…hopping about.”

Tim leaned down and over to plant a series of kisses on Harry’s cheek.

“Like that?”

Harry opened one eye. “Exactly like that.”

Harry pulled one arm from under his body and extended it towards Tim.

“You’re too far…” his voice was a low-pitched whine.

Tim scooted his body over, settling under his arm, on his stomach again, face to face.

“Let’s stay like this all day,” Harry drawled, already half-asleep again.

Tim put his hand up to the side of Harry’s face. It was cold and un-indented from not being slept on.

“We could.”

Harry nodded.

They had stayed up most of the night, having dinner out late, stumbling home after midnight, swimming until 1:00 a.m., and then drinking more and smoking after that before falling into one another, into bed at nearly 4:00 a.m.

Tim looked at his sleeping partner, remembering being in the heated pool, feeling rich and worthy of such excess, swimming up  behind Harry who was smoking, arms and elbows up on the marble on the side of the pool, using his empty champagne bottle and beer bottle as ash trays.

Tim had wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist under the water, putting his head on his shoulders, between his shoulder blades, licking a line from the top of his spine up to the base of his skull.

“Someone’s feeling playful,” Harry had said, slowly turning around in the water, hands now free.

He took Tim by the shoulders and looked far off and at him again. His face was neon, the water hitting it from underneath, his chin and eyelashes dripping with water.

“What?” Tim asked, his lips curving up on one side, curls matted down on the sides of his neck and forehead, necklace stuck to his collarbone.

“What’s gonna happen when you leave London?”

Tim blinked. He had not expected to talk about the future while standing nearly naked in the shallow end of a pool in the middle of the night. But he had talked about crazier things in crazier places.

“I um…I’ll go back to New York I guess? Probably have to do some promo in LA for a bit…?” Maybe if he made it sound like a question, open ended so the conversation could end or at least be put on hold. He put his hands under the water; put them on Harry’s hips.

Harry nodded, rubbed the dripping water off of his chin.

“Of course, yeah.”

He put his hands over Tim’s under the water and moved closer, putting his feet on top of Tim’s, weightless so he could stand with his full body mass on his feet.

Tim’s mouth dropped open at the surge of a memory, avoiding hot grass and cement by standing on another pair of feet years ago, bony and tan with too-long toes, holding onto shoulders and elbows for balance, large hands on his waist to keep him from falling over.

Now he reached up to balance another boy, one almost as tall as him, but Harry was steady, the water keeping him upright, lifting his body into place on top of Tim’s feet. Just the slightest touch kept him there, no extra pressure was necessary.

“Doesn’t this remind you of being a kid?” Tim asked, rubbing his hands along Harry’s elbows and the back of his arms.

Harry shook his head. “If you mean like doing this with your Dad, then no.”

Tim made a small sound and then, “Oh. Right.”

But Harry was laughing, his arms draped over Tim’s shoulders like they were dancing at prom.

“But this is much, much better I’m sure.”

Tim nodded, not even sure what he was agreeing to anymore.

The swayed in the water for a few moments, only the noise of it lapping against the sides of the pool broke the barrier of silence.

Harry spoke first. “How’d you learn to swim anyway? Growin’ up in New York?”

Tim let his arms rest in the water, palms and wrists flat on the surface.

“My sister and I, my Mom took us to the Y. Then when I was in France during the summer, I always had some place to swim.”

“Oh, right. I forgot you came over here every summer.” Harry rubbed his nose. His hands were starting to prune.

Tim smiled. _Over here._

“I swear, you seem more European than me.”

Tim made a face. “Say more.”

“I mean,” Harry shrugged. “I think of myself as British, even though it’s all one big place isn’t it?”

Tim nodded. He just wanted him to keep talking, to keep standing weightless on his feet under water.

“But you…you’re like… _New York_ … _France_ …all these places, you speak French…you got…” Harry gently put his finger between Tim’s eyebrows.

“ _This_ growin’….no kid in America or England would let that go!”

Tim swatted his hand away, raising a hand to touch his unibrow, making sure it was still there.

“What do you want me to say?”  A pause. “You want me to get rid of it or something?”

Harry’s mouth made the perfect shape of an O.

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? It’s amazing. I love it.”

Tim, still touching the space between his brows, smiled.

“You say love funny.” The booze and weed had reached his brain.

“I say everythin’ funny,” Harry’s voice was flat, but light-hearted.

“No but I mean…it comes out like… _luv.Loooooove. Luuuuuuuuuv.”_

“You just sound French!” Harry was laughing.

“But you do! I don’t know what it is, man. But it’s hilarious.”

“Love. Love. Love.” Harry repeated the word over and over.

“Luv, Luv, Luv,” Tim repeated back in Harry’s accent.

“Fuck off!” Harry splashed water at his face, just a little, with the back of his fingers.

“ _Luvvvvvv_ …..” Tim drew the word out, grabbing Harry around the waist, splashing him in return.

“I _luvvvvvvv_ you.”

Harry looked at Tim, the play-fighting coming to a hard and fast stop.

“You what?”

Tim sucked in his cheeks, trapping the air there. He looked away from Harry.

“It’s just that you say it funny is all…”   He held his hands in front of him, covering the front of his boxers.

Harry looked down at his hands.

“Did telling me you love me give you a boner?”

Tim followed Harry’s eyes downward and quickly removed his hands.

“What? No.” He clicked his tongue between his teeth, rolled his eyes.

“You perv.”

Tim took a deep breath, cheeks puffed out; eyes closed tight and let his entire body fall under water, Harry suddenly hosting onto air, a ghost.

He emerged, eyes red around the rims from the strong chlorine.

“Come on, let’s race.”

Harry shook his head. “No fuckin’ way. You’ve been training and shit and I’ve been…drinking and prancing around in heels on stage.”

Tim laughed, falling backward in the water toward the deep end, doing a backwards stroke.

“That counts.”

Tim flipped water at Harry with his foot who grabbed the same foot, pulling him under, a frantic gasp and laugh as he was carried to the bottom of the deep end by Harry. Everything was being done in reverse, Harry dragging his treasure back down to the ocean floor to be buried.

Their eyes were open, stinging against the chemicals, but they were both laughing, bubbles from their mouths and noses rising to the surface.

Harry had let go of Tim, but Tim swam over, pulling him back to his chest again, wrapping his arms around him and nodded upwards. They both began kicking to the surface holding onto one another’s elbows and waists, two mermen with floating curls and necklaces like anchors. They looked upwards where air waited, feet kicking in time with one another.

They emerged with two deep inhales, laughing as soon as air had filled their lungs, instantly rubbing their eyes.

Tim bumped his head against Harry’s collar bone, protruding and darting around tattoos and kissed his neck just as quick. Harry’s head bent down to meet Tim’s lips, but Tim pushed him against the side of the pool, with his mouth, his waist and chest, his hands pushing water away from them.

It was all one seamless, perfectly timed movement when looked at from a distance or above.

Tim pushed Harry’s shoulders back until Harry stretched his arms on either side of the marble surface while Tim latched onto his body, hands on the sides of his face and neck, kissing him so hard Harry’s head bent back as far as it would go.

With one leg wrapped around his waist, Tim lifted the other and let himself weightlessly cling to Harry’s waist, feet up against the wall of the pool, both legs wrapped around him.

“Would you kiss me sober?” Tim breathed, pulling away from Harry, hands tugging on the top of his hair with both fists.

Harry looked down at him, mouth hanging open where Tim had left him.

“I have haven’t I?”

Tim shook his head.

“Well that means you haven’t kissed me sober either.”

“Would you fuck me sober?”  Tim’s voice was quiet but full. He was floating on scotch and high quality weed.

Harry laughed, burrowing into the side of Tim’s head but when he pulled back Tim’s face was serious.

“Course I would!” Harry grabbed Tim’s hard cock under the water. “I’d do anythin’ you were up for, would think you’d know that by now.”

Tim put Harry’s arm back up on the side of the pool, leaving his dick neglected.

“I like to see you like this.”

Harry looked at his arms outstretched, his legs the same under water. “What, like I’m about to be crucified?”

“Yes.” Tim didn’t hesitate.

He grabbed Harry’s neck for another kiss, but Harry put a hand to his chest.

“My turn to ask a question.”

Tim sighed, horny, annoyed, but fair is fair.

“Okay. Go.”

Harry stroked his chin as if he were about to spill the truest of truths, like he was gonna release the most moral testament of all time.

“Would you even be here if Armie didn’t exist?”

Tim’s face turned grey and then red instead of pool-light neon.

“Don’t ever say that again.”

Harry raised his eyebrows, hands up in surrender. “I don’t mean like that, not like he died or somethin-“

“I don’t care.” Tim’s voice was tight, legs pushing away from the wall, swimming to keep himself upright and away from Harry.

Harry was watching him, careful with his next words.

“I just meant…would you need me if you had him the way you wanted him?”

Tim swam as fast as he could away from Harry, launching himself out of the pool, boxers dripping onto the marble and Harry’s forearms, cock still sticking straight up. He walked away, landing in a solid white deck chair, pulled out so he could stretch his feet out towards the pool.

“I don’t need you,” Tim choked out, arm over his eyes.

He heard Harry get out of the pool and splatter over to where he was. He was standing at the foot of the lounge chair. Tim felt a soft, pruned, ringed hand on his left ankle.

“Hey mate, you know I was only....not jokin’ but…we’ve talked about this…”

“Yeah and we shouldn’t have,” Tim snapped.

Tim pulled his arm away from his eyes and looked right at him.

“You’re right, I probably wouldn’t be here. But I am. What more do you want?”

Harry eased himself down between Tim’s legs, rubbing his lower leg, his foot. Tim winced. Everything Harry, everything every boy and girl did mirrored a touch Armie had made to his body.

Everyone traced over Armie’s original art.

Tim watched Harry rub his skin for a long time.

“I leave London soon.”

Harry nodded. “I’m aware. Hungary, right?”

“Budapest,” Tim nodded. He rubbed his face from his forehead down to his chin with both hands, touching and grabbing his neck.

“What am I gonna do without you showin’ up here once a week? Drinking my drinks, swimming in my pool….takin’ up most of my bed…” Harry smirked, letting his hand wander up Tim’s leg to his thigh.

Tim had that feeling where you want to forgive someone and maybe you already have, but you still can’t let them see you smile; you can’t melt in front of them until they’ve suffered enough. He batted at Harry’s hand. He was already showing his mercy.

“I’ll be alone,” he blurted out, looking out at the pool.

Harry nodded. “Yeah. But it’s a lovely place.”

Tim made a noise that sounded like _pssshhh_ , he sounded and felt 15 again. He even folded his arms across his chest.   

“And didn’t your friend come out to see you here?” He patted Tim’s leg. “Make him come see you out there, free vacation and all that.”  

Tim nodded, looking up at the night sky. He didn’t want to hear practical solutions. He wanted to hear that the people who couldn’t come see him, would, and that they would stay forever and have breakfast, lunch and dinner with him and get drunk and high and go to the movies with him. He wanted to hear that they would touch him just how he wanted and know exactly how to make fun of him, how to love him, how to fuck him and they would never stop.

He wanted Armie there.

 He wanted to know he could run to Harry if he needed to.

He wanted them both to get him cocaine or ecstasy and the best wine and they could do it all together and fall all over each other to music that Armie hated.

He wanted to be so fucked, so twisted, never coming down with people he loved that he would pretend he didn’t remember the conversation the next morning, but he would know damn well every word was sitting at the front of his brain.

He didn’t care how selfish or destructive any of this was.

 He wanted to come back to his hotel after shooting and have people there, waiting to read his mind and guess what he wanted to eat _(nah I’m sick of curry…),_ people just waiting to love him, tuck him in before another long day.

He didn’t understand why he couldn’t have a forever family, carefully selected, just follow him around country to country, city to city, set to set.

But this was part of it, the distance, the space, the time apart. And like it mattered. He could be living down the street from Armie and he would likely spend just as much time without him. Maybe not. Maybe Armie just expected him to do the work so if Tim was there…

Harry nudged Tim’s foot.

“You’re thinking too much, boy.”

Tim sighed.

“Fuck yes I am.” He held his arms out to Harry, fingers doing a grabbing motion, a baby bird.

“Come here and help clear my head.”

Harry crawled up to him on his hands and knees between his legs, already tugging down the front of Tim’s boxers with four fingers.

“That’s what I’m here for.”

Tim wanted to correct him, say _no, you’re not_ , but maybe it was true and maybe that was fine.

But he had said something close to I love you, _I luuuuuuuvvv you…._ and maybe right now he did and that was okay too.

Nothing had to be forever, nothing had to be decided right now. He had so much time. Why did he count the hours and days already, this early in the game? Why did everything feel so goddamn important?

His head hurt. His heart hurt. He watched Harry pull his boxers down, his cock in the air and he groaned at just the sight of Harry leaning over it, his hand at the base, holding him.

“I can’t believe I’ve had sex with you,” Tim laughed out loud, covering his mouth.

Harry looked up at him.

“Why’s that?”

Tim shrugged, running a hand through Harry’s wet hair.

“Cos, you’re Harry Styles. And you like boys. And I guess you like me”

Harry looked up after licking the tip of his dick. He had pre-come on his tongue. He stuck it out for Tim to see.

“You guess?” He closed his mouth and swallowed. Tim groaned.

“Maybe more than like me…” Tim conceded, his legs spreading for Harry to pull his boxers all the way off.

Harry took half of him in his mouth and pulled back up, kissing the tip, rubbing his hand up and down the wet skin, rubbing the insides of his thighs. Tim sucked air in-between his teeth.

_“Ffffuuuuuuckkk…”_

Harry smirked, kept rubbing, kept touching.

“Don’t you mean _luuuuuuuuvvvvv_?”

Tim started to answer, with what he didn’t know, but Harry had put his mouth on him again, all the way down to the base, drool coming out both sides of his lips and Tim nearly choked with pleasure, sitting up straight, eyes open wide, nails digging into Harry’s shoulders.

“You have to let me have you later,” Tim said rushed, desperate.

Harry nodded mouth still on his cock.

Tim fell back on the lounge chair, sweating in the cool night air. He was already imagining it, maybe he would take him out here, in the pool, no, maybe in the shower before bed.

He looked down at Harry, still working on his dick, hands all over his stomach and thighs. Tim felt his chest go cold and then hot, lonely but full.

**Author's Note:**

> Iknowthebattle on Tumblr xx  
> Come discourse, curse and overthink with me.


End file.
